


i'm tired of my life but my head's alright

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, psssst the rings thing is real, reuploaded from lj, should this be rated Explicit? probably, they literally wore matching rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: Noel recovering from the Toronto stage attack. In a slightly nontraditional way.2008.





	i'm tired of my life but my head's alright

**Author's Note:**

> reuploading all my stories to here because livejournal is owned by russia now or something and i'm not taking a chance on that

To be fair, he _was_ the one who chose to pick up the phone.  
  
“…yes?”  
  
_Why did I even answer?_  
  
“Noel, man, what you doing?”  
  
_Seriously?_  
  
“Excuse you? What ‘m I doing? I’m in bed, _man,_ what d’you think I’m–”  
  
_Does he even_ try _to listen?_  
  
“Sara there?”  
  
_Oh, no, he can’t be– well, of course he’s serious._  
  
Noel frowns, hoping his brother can feel it through the phone. “Please don’t. For both our sakes, please, please don’t.”  
  
_So much for a quiet day alone._  
  
And he feels Liam smiling right back – “I’ll be there in fifteen.”  
  
_I couldn’t stop him if I fucking tried._  
  
xxx  
  
Noel can feel his headache coming on the second he hears the back door open and shut downstairs. Why had he given Liam a key, again? He can’t for the life of him remember why.  
  
Heavy, broad footsteps on the stairs, and he’s all energy as he slides into the bedroom like Cosmo Kramer. Before a word can escape either of their mouths, Liam is curled up on the bed, staring over at Noel. Like a hungry tiger. A shapeshifter, him.  
  
“You haven’t let any photographers in, have you?”  
  
“Nah, man, why would there be any round your gaff anyway? They fuck off once they’re in sniffin’ distance of you, don’t they?”  
  
“Dickhead.”  
  
“Saw one on the way over, though. Good-looking bloke. Wouldn’t get out of me face. Nearly shagged ‘im instead.” Liam’s scooting upwards and reclining against the headboard now, in what would appear to be a bid to raise himself up to Noel’s level – both physically and, tragic though it is, metaphorically. Noel instinctually attempts to sit up further, but winces when it puts pressure on his sore torso. The words hit him at about the same moment, leading to a very concentrated burst of confusion and pain.  
  
“You– _what?_ ‘Shagged’? ‘ _Instead’???_ ”  
  
Liam looks nearly as confused as Noel himself. “What’d you think I was comin’ over for?”  
  
“You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?”  
  
“Fuck you, man! You can’t expect me to–”  
  
“Shut up, I’ll have you know that–”  
  
“You fucking bastard, ’m just trying to do something–”  
  
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Listen to me! First of all, you’re an idiot. Second of all, you’re a _fucking idiot_. Third of all – close your fucking mouth – third of all, you’re out of your fucking mind, thinking it’s alright to say _that_ while you’re sat right where my fucking _missus_ sleeps, you cunt. And fourth of all – fucking _shut_ it, don’t even start – are you aware I’m currently in what you could reasonably call a fucking _shitload_ of pain?”  
  
Liam merely blinks. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
“What? You know _what,_ exactly? ‘Cause it doesn’t seem like you know much to me.”  
  
“I just fucking… _here_.” The last word is uttered quietly, but it seems just as loud when Noel factors in Liam’s sudden proximity to his ear.  
  
There’s a pair of familiar lips on his neck. Noel wasn’t expecting this, somehow, and fails to hold in a gasp at the contact.  
  
“Liam.”  
  
Licking at his skin.  
  
“ _Liam._ ”  
  
Biting at his skin.  
  
“Liam, you’ve got to–”  
  
_Sucking_ at his skin and this is when Noel gathers all the force he has and pushes Liam away. The process leads to that horrible ache above his stomach and his hands drop from Liam’s shoulders, clutching at himself in pain. He shuts his eyes. He prays that Liam will disappear once they open.  
  
“Cunt. See what you’ve done?”  
  
Noel’s wish has not been granted. “What _I’ve_ done? You fucking lunatic, you come in here and try to pull _that,_ what d’you fucking expect? Me to take you up in my arms, thank you for coming by to _make love_ to me? Bullshit. And aren’t you supposed to be _married_ now?”  
  
“You an’ me wore rings ‘fore we put ‘em on _any_ birds, man.”  
  
“Except Diane.”  
  
“Fuck Diane.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“Should’ve fucked me instead.”  
  
“You were thirteen, you jealous idiot.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“When are you going to _leave_?”  
  
He doesn’t answer this time. Noel closes his eyes again, and fears he’ll feel the lips on his neck again, but there’s nothing. He opens them again, not wanting to take a chance, and Liam’s eyes are, predictably, focused on his own.  
  
The endless blue distracts the older brother, giving Liam the opportunity to slip his hand lower without intervention. Noel gasps for the second time in minutes as he feels Liam’s hand slowly moving over his flannel pyjamas.  
  
“The fuck d’you think you’re doing?” It feels nice. “You must be mental.” So nice he can’t stop opening and shutting his mouth, praying Liam will do his job for him and _end_ this. “Liam, I–” But he’ll never do that. “Fucking _stop_ it.” Noel’s brain climbs back down from whatever heaven he was briefly in and he roughly grabs Liam’s wrist, halting his movements.  
  
“You want it.”  
  
“And how would _you_ know that?”  
  
“I’ve only been getting you off for twenty fuckin’ years–”  
  
“Shut up.” He’s still holding Liam’s wrist, though his grip has gone soft and it feels more like they’re holding hands now. Noel pointedly ignores this.  
  
“ _You_ shut up.”  
  
“I’m getting fucking tired of you, you know. Sitting in _my_ bed, talking a load of shite – you know what, get up now, I’m not–”  
  
“I’m sure you ‘aven’t got off since you broke those ribs.”  
  
“Would that be _your_ first priority? Recovering from a fucking assault and all you’d think about is having it off, I’m sure.”  
  
“So you ‘aven’t, then.”  
  
“Of course I fucking haven’t. Spent every second worrying, I’ve got no time for it. ‘Sides, hurts too much to do it myself, muscles tensing up and all that.”  
  
Liam pouts at him, the most sarcastic he’s been yet. “Poor Noel… sat here a fucking cripple, an’ Sara don’t seem the type to go for sympathy shags, either, I bet you’ve–”  
  
“Fuck you, don’t fucking talk about my wife that way, you’re well out of order–”  
  
“I’m just trying to repay the fucking favour!”  
  
Liam looks deflated and it’s almost upsetting to Noel. Then it hits him.  
  
Booze and birds and air rifles, feet and doors and _why_ did Guigsy have to hang that fucking cricket bat on the wall? It was thirteen years ago, and the fight is foggy, but that handjob he’d given Liam – as he lay there whingeing about his broken foot – hangs heavy and clear in Noel’s mind.  
  
“How d’you even remember?”  
  
“Fucking meant a lot to me, that.” Liam sounds satisfied, probably because Noel’s recollection of the event proves that it was just as important to him. He’s still on edge, though, and Noel’s too weak for a fight, and Liam just wants to repay the favour. And his missus is out and it’s only this once– he was doing so well, stayed away from the kid for fucking _months_ and now here they are again and Noel can’t lie, in the end, not to himself and not to Liam, and he fucking _wants_ this.  
  
As he lets go of Liam’s wrist, he pulls the singer’s face towards his, giving him a peck on the cheek as the stroking starts back up again. Noel can’t bring himself to face what he’s doing, though, not yet anyway, so he leans back and shuts his eyes, praying to the skies that Liam won’t ruin this with conversation.  
  
Surprisingly, he doesn’t. He kisses Noel gently on the nose and the forehead and the chin and the top of his ear, and when Noel opens his eyes again halfway through, he can’t hold back the smallest noise. Liam burrows into his side, head on his brother’s chest now, and continues his work.  
  
_You were fucking born to do this_ , Noel wishes he could say. _And it’s fucking amazing because all you do is sing and shag, and you could do both at the same time– well, not during all of it, I guess. But when your mouth’s free–_ and he has to shut his brain off, then, because the pain meds have clearly gone to his head, and the things he’s thinking are bordering on lunacy.  
  
The kid’s hand doesn’t let up. Liam was right; he’s only been getting him off for two fucking decades. No one can do it better. And it seems that’s something he’s doomed to have proven to him, time and time again, though never in a circumstance such as this, with his bones too shattered to care.  
  
Liam speaks for the first time – “ _Tell me when you’re there_ ” – and Noel feels pleasure rising up from his hips to his stomach to his chest, where it temporarily blurs out the pain and it’s, pathetically, the highlight of his week.  
  
_“Don’t let it get on the… fucking sheets,_ ” Noel groans out quietly, and Liam holds his pelvis down, silently saying _Take it easy, man, don’t wanna hurt yourself,_ and when he sees his brother’s fingers digging in tighter to the blanket, he leans down and covers the head of Noel’s cock with his mouth, neatly catching his release.  
  
Noel sees this and, in the afterglow, it seems just beautiful. He hasn’t witnessed Liam do _that_ in quite some time.  
  
But, as always, he soon feels that sudden kicking guilt. What he’s just done is dishonest. What he’s just done is bordering on insanity. What he’s just done is very, very wrong, and he thinks it might be a bit before he can forgive himself. Or Liam, for that matter.  
  
“You’re too fucking old to be swallowing.”  
  
Liam smiles. These are the only times Noel’s ever seen him look _shy._  
  
“Didn’t ‘ave another choice, did I?”  
  
The guitarist smiles despite himself and ruffles his brother's hair. “Look, all I’m saying is, next time, man– next time, if you’re going to break the law just to try and get rid of my pain, I’d much prefer a joint.”  
  
“Don’t fucking lie.”  
  
“Not fucking lying.”  
  
“You’d fucking break your own ribs just to get some from me.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“ _Whatever._ ”  
  
They sit in silence for quite a bit. Noel thinks of some things to say but figures they’re better said over the phone. He figures there’s probably not much going on in Liam’s mind at the moment, but that’s alright with him.  
  
xxx  
  
“I should go, man, got a lot to fuckin’ do today.”  
  
“I’m sure.”  
  
Liam stands, walking backwards to the doorway. “A fucking _thank you_ would be nice every once in a while, cunt.”  
  
“Not gonna happen.”  
  
“Gotta happen someday.”  
  
“Never. You’ll never hear it from me. Well, not when I’m sober, at least.” The last sentence comes out of Noel’s mouth disjointed, like a half-constructed thought.  
  
“Alright, man.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Liam hovers at the door a bit, uncharacteristically awkward, but he can’t move yet because there’s no way in _hell_ he will let Noel have the last word. He stews over his own for a bit before spitting them out, turning on his heel, and rushing down the stairs–  
  
“Guess I’ll just have to remember the joint next time.”


End file.
